Elfhunter

by C S Marks

  The night drew down around Gorgon, enfolding him in darkness, as he waited for the return of his two henchmen. Doubt was beginning to grow in the back of his mind; surely it would not take so long to trap one Elf and kill one dwarf. He had instructed the Ulcas to return with all haste, bringing the She-elf to him alive. They most certainly would not have dared defy him; Gorgon knew that the Ulcas under his command both loathed and feared him. He strained into the blackness of the forest, trying to hear, but he heard no rumor of any returning minions.

  He grew impatient and decided to make a few preparations for the arrival of Nelwyn. He took the rope from his shoulders and threw the free end over a convenient, sturdy tree-branch, preparing to tie her and suspend her as he had the others, so that he might torment her at his leisure. As he made fast the rope, estimating the length he would require, a familiar voice startled him from behind.

  You won’t be needing that rope, you know. They are not coming back. Your plan has gone awry, and the Elves have held the mastery. She no doubt met companions on the road, and they have dispatched your pathetic would-be abductors. You might as well turn tail and go back to the rest of your rabble right now. Ha!

  Gorgon did not want to turn around, for he knew what he would see. "Go away, Èolo, for I do not wish to bandy words with you tonight. I have nothing to say to you."

  Gelmyr then appeared in front of Gorgon, forcing him to look into his dead, rotting face. No doubt, Dreaded Horror! However, I have a few things to say to you. My people have proven their superiority once again. Even with every advantage—the mirror that allows you to know what they are planning, as well as large, strong minions handpicked by the Black Flame—you cannot prevail against one She-elf. This is the second time that she and her friends have bested you, I believe. And here you are, alone, a perfect target for their bows, and in one moment all of Wrothgar’s well-laid plans could come to nothing! If that happens, you will indeed be glad that they have killed you.

  "What would you know about it? The Black Flame is beyond anything in your experience. You Elves have no stomach for the kind of dread power He wields. You are dead, Èolo, and you have no power over me. Why do you torment me thus? Does it give you so much pleasure that you will not rest?"

  Indeed it does, O Fearsome Hand of Death! I appear when you are in doubt of yourself, and rightly so, I might add. I will not rest until you summon me no more. Gelmyr paused, and his blue glowing face twisted slightly into a vague, sardonic smile. By the way, he said in a soft, rather menacing voice, have you regretted killing me yet? If you had simply left me alone that night by the Ambros, I would not be here tormenting you right now.

  "That I most assuredly have NOT!" roared Gorgon, as Gelmyr threw his head back and laughed aloud.

  You know, ‘Elfhunter’, I would keep my voice lower if I were you. The Elves of Greatwood have deadly aim, and they see quite well in the dark. You are more than close enough to their borders to risk being taken. Give up waiting for your toadies; they were unwary and died without a struggle. Go back to your pathetic army. You may find their confidence in your abilities somewhat shaken, however. Most regrettable. I wonder how long before they turn on you and murder you some dark night?

  "They will never do such a thing, as Wrothgar will have them, and they fear Him," said Gorgon. He had to admit that going back to the Black Company in failure was not something he looked forward to.

  I expect you’ll simply lie to them, won’t you? You’ll make up some story of your victory over the She-elf, alas that your two minions were lost, but you certainly enjoyed tormenting her. Isn’t that about right? You are so utterly pathetic! You are an embarrassment to the name of Elves. Even your father’s people would laugh if they could see and hear you right now. Elfhunter, indeed!

  Gelmyr’s laughter filled Gorgon’s senses, and Gorgon wondered for a moment whether he was going mad. Then, mercifully, the laughter faded. As Gelmyr slowly disappeared from view, he spoke one last time:

  So long as you continue to doubt yourself, I shall be with you. It appears that I shall have little rest. Ha! Farewell, pathetic underling of Wrothgar. Enjoy the rest of your night alone…dawn is nearly upon you. Farewell.

  In that moment, as Gelmyr faded at last from his sight and hearing, Gorgon knew that the Elf was right. The Ulcas would not return, as dawn was nearly breaking, and he would now have to make his way alone to the Barrens. For a moment he considered going after Nelwyn himself, but he dared not. Once inside the Elf-realm he would be at great risk, and he did not know what peril had taken the Ulcas. It was possible that a large company of Elves lay waiting for him, and he could not risk being killed, not before he had the chance to visit disaster upon them.

  No, Lord Wrothgar had placed this power at his command, and it would not be wasted. He would await his chance to lay them all low; it would come soon enough. He had escaped their notice, and therefore their wrath, for all these ages. The She-elf was not worth throwing all that caution away in one vengeful, foolish moment. He would wait yet awhile, but if the Ulcas did not appear he would continue back toward the Barrens, there to rendezvous with Kharsh and his army. He already had a suitably impressive response planned should Kharsh ask him what had befallen the Ulcas. If Wrothgar had been privy to Gorgon’s thoughts then, he would have rejoiced. His wayward creation was coming into maturity at last.

  Chapter 25: Gaelen Undone

  Rogond, Galador and Gaelen had stopped for the night to rest their horses, for they preferred traveling in the deep forest while the sun was up. It was obvious that Nelwyn and Fima had stopped in this very spot the previous evening, obvious to Gaelen at any rate, for she could detect the signs, though they were few. As they rested, they tried to imagine the purpose that had driven Nelwyn and Fima to this place, and in particular, why Nelwyn had felt it necessary to lie to Gaelen about it.

  This was not Nelwyn’s habit, and Gaelen remarked to the others that Nelwyn had lied easily and well, seeming quite in earnest and not at all uncomfortable. This was perplexing, as normally Nelwyn had a great deal of difficulty lying convincingly to anyone. Rogond likewise could not imagine what Fima was doing going off with Nelwyn on some unknown errand. Herb-lore did not interest the dwarf, and he loathed traveling on horseback. Yet here he was, riding for nearly three days with Nelwyn, to what end? Galador’s distress was predictable, for he was both hurt and angry that Nelwyn had gone off without even telling him.

  "Don’t be angry with her, Galador," said Gaelen. "I’m sure that Nelwyn has an innocent motive…perhaps she and Fima are planning something to surprise you, and therefore kept it from you." Galador looked at her with a jaundiced eye, and she looked away, knowing how unlikely her argument sounded.

  Galador had grown fond of Gaelen in recent weeks. Now, like everyone else who knew her well, he perceived that she was deeply troubled, and he relented. "Perhaps you’re right," he said. "I pray that you are, for although it distresses me to admit it, I am really more afraid than angry. I am thankful for your reassurance…it is helpful."

  Rogond had not been himself since the day before Nelwyn had left with Fima. He had been seeking the dwarf, and had finally found him that morning, but Fima had brushed him off, saying that he had no time for any discussions then, but would find Rogond later. Then he went off with Nelwyn unbeknownst to anyone save Gaelen. It was obvious to Rogond that Fima was avoiding him, but why? A deep gnawing dread was growing in his heart. Did Fima already know something of Amandir’s revelation? He had seemed rather grim and subdued for several days now, quite unlike his usual demeanor, and this would be a reasonable explanation.

  Gaelen had built a small fire, which Galador was now tending. Rogond looked over his shoulder to observe her approaching a nearby tree, then he heard the soft rustling of branches as she climbed up to keep the watch. Rogond was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to speak to her, as though he might never get another chance. He did not especially relish joining her in the top of the tall tree, but this he would do, for his n
eed was great and would not be suppressed.

  He rose and bade Galador good night, making his way to where Gaelen had gone, though he could not see her. Then her soft voice drifted down, and she moved just enough that he could see her among the middle branches.

  "I would speak with you, Gaelen. Shall I come up, or will you come down?"

  "I will come down if it is an urgent matter, for it will be no use keeping the watch from here if you join me, as you will be both seen and heard. It’s not the best vantage point, anyway." She dropped from her perch to land lightly beside him; he had not even seen her climb down.

  "Fima is right. You are quite the furtive one! No wonder he complains so about your startling him constantly."

  She ignored his comment. "I am here, Tuathan. What would you say to me?" She was direct, as always.

  Rogond’s resolve was beginning to waver, but he drew a deep breath and steeled himself—it was time. "Gaelen, please sit down, as this will be difficult for me to say, but I have long wanted to say it. I don’t know why, but I must say it now… tonight."

  She appeared apprehensive and took both his hands in her own, sinking down upon the ground before him. He then sat beside her and reached up to stroke her hair, gazing into her concerned face. Several long moments passed in silence ‘ere he spoke, sometimes halting, sometimes very eloquent, but always genuine. "Gaelen…I have struggled long with this matter, for all have told me that my path leads only to sorrow, and that it is folly. I am a mortal man and one day I must leave this world and go to the place prepared for my kindred. There, you cannot follow. I will never be with you again. All have warned me of the grief this will bring, even Lady Ordath and Galador, but though I hear their words, my heart does not. My heart…"

  Here he paused, as his voice broke and his hands were shaking slightly. He drew another deep breath, and looked once more into her bright eyes.

  "My heart is given, Gaelen. It is given forever, and I will love no other. I cannot take back my choice even should I wish to. All have admonished me that my hope is vain and my desire is doomed, but I cannot undo them. Please understand that I love you, that I will always love you, and that I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me."

  He watched her expression change from shock to distress as her eyes filled with tears. She did not know what to say to him, but sat before him in silence, her hands now limp in his grasp.

  "Gaelen, please do not be grieved at this knowledge. You cannot know how difficult this has been for me to say, but I cannot keep silent any longer. Things are happening, my love, and our future is uncertain. I would have you know of my devotion, for I sense you will have need of it." Gaelen stared at him in silence, her face expressionless save for the tears that stood in her bright eyes.

  "Please, Gaelen, have you nothing to say?"

  She closed her eyes then, as though collecting herself, and a tear trickled slowly down her cheek. Rogond reached up and gently wiped it away, despairing as she stiffened at his touch. At last she spoke:

  "I have been wondering about this since Cós-domhain, but lacked the courage to speak of it. I do not wish to hurt you, as I care for you deeply, but can you not see that Ordath and Galador are right? This cannot be, though we might wish it. You…you are the most wonderful person I know, the most caring and steadfast. You deserve a love that will be given fully to you and will follow you hereafter, until the ending of the world. You deserve better than Gaelen of the Greatwood."

  Rogond’s heart ached so much for her in that moment that he could hardly bear it. There was no one better. There never would be. Not for him. "Did you not hear? I will have no other. You are my love, Gaelen, to whom my heart is given. I cannot retrieve it even if I so wished. Do you not hear me? My heart is given. I am doomed to spend my days in longing for you, and I don’t know if I can bear it."

  She truly wept then, tears flowing freely from her eyes, and pulled her hands away from him with some difficulty. She rose to her knees, reeling back from him as he tried to stay her. "Rogond…I cannot sustain your heart. I do not know if I can ever love anyone the way you would want me to. You deserve better. I am not capable of giving my heart to anyone. Not now, not ever again. You cannot understand!"

  He gripped her upper arms then, gently but firmly. "Stay and hear me, Gaelen, before you decide what you must do. I…I know your heart was given."

  She looked at him with wide eyes. She had not expected this. "Gaelen, I know about Rain."

  At the mention of Ri-Elathan, Rogond saw pain and desperate longing flickering in the depths of her eyes, and he despaired for her. "Who has told you of him? This is knowledge that I have guarded even from my own kin. How did you learn of it?"

  "It doesn’t matter. In truth, I have known for some time, since Mountain-home. I know the whole tale, Gaelen, and I know the grief of your heart. I only want the chance to aid you and to love you with all my being for the duration of my days. I ask nothing more. Give me only what you can, Gaelen. I am not Ri-Elathan. I would never presume to take his place in your heart."

  "That is well, Rogond, for that you cannot do. What I do not know is whether there is room in my heart to love anyone, especially someone as deserving and worthy of love as you. I do care for you, very deeply. I have despaired at the thought of your leaving me, for my life would be so much less without you. But I do not know whether I can love you the way you want me to. You must give me time to consider your words. I shall then give you my answer."

  "That I will, beloved. But consider these words as well: I have no choice left to me. I must either live for the days of my life with the one I love and then part from her forever, or live the days of my life in bitter disappointment, alone in longing for her, and then part from her forever. Consider also your choices, Gaelen. You can allow me to love you, to my great joy, for the days allotted to us, and we can live happily until our parting. Or you can remain as you have been, and live in grief and longing until you are slain, or choose to give up your life. Your beloved, who awaits you even now, what choice would he have you make? From what I have heard of him, I cannot imagine that he would not have you choose to open your heart and not live in grief for him as you have done already for so many, many years. Tell me that is not so!"

  Gaelen’s eyes flashed. "If Farahin were here, Rogond, he could explain his choice to us. But he is not, and I cannot speak for him. I can only consider my own choices."

  Rogond spoke gently to her. "That’s right, Gaelen…Farahin is not here. He has not been by your side since the Third Battle. Look into my eyes and tell me that he would choose a lifetime of grief for you!" Gaelen looked hard at Rogond, but she could not answer, and she looked away.

  "I need time to consider your words," she said, pulling back from him and rising rather ungracefully to her feet. "Do not say anything more until I have had time. If you press me, I shall turn from you. Do you understand?"

  He bowed his head in acknowledgment, and she turned and ran from the glade. Rogond knew that he had upset her, for her footfalls were easily heard. He drew a long, shuddering breath, fear and doubt gnawing in the pit of his stomach, and returned to the firelight. He could not rest and began pacing the clearing, muttering occasionally to himself as Galador watched from his place by the fire.

  "Rogond, your incessant pacing is unsettling to me. Please, come and sit in one place for a while and try to calm yourself. You will arouse the attention of our enemies with all this motion and noise." Rogond looked over at his friend, whose steady gaze drew him back down. He moved to sit beside Galador in silence, as the Elf slowly stirred the glowing embers.

  "Well, you’ve gone and done it now, haven’t you, my friend?"

  "Yes, Galador, I have done it. Though exactly what I have done. I’m not certain. I only hope that Gaelen will consider well my words and not send me from her. I don’t know whether I will ever be happy again if that happens." He sighed, quelling the tears that threatened to fill his earnest grey eyes.

  "I warned yo
u, Rogond, and so did Ordath. Now you have come too far to turn back. I hope your heart survives unbroken, for I love you as a brother…a wayward brother who doesn’t heed wise advice when it is given."

  "Perhaps not, Galador, but I am a wayward brother who is true to his own heart despite wise advice. I simply do not know any other way. I am sorry that I cannot learn from the experiences of my elder brother, but I rejoice that he loves me nonetheless." He sighed, resigned to stirring the fire. Galador smiled for a moment, but the red firelight flickering in the cool grey depths of his eyes revealed the doubt that lay within.

  Nelwyn and Fima had remained near their camp for a while longer, in case Gorgon should appear, but Nelwyn doubted that he would show himself as he had obviously not felt comfortable entering the Wood-elves’ domain in the first place. The two hapless Ulcas lay dead. Nelwyn had shivered as Fima related every word of their conversation to her. So, they had been sent to capture her and take her to Gorgon. And the Ulcas had mentioned "big plans" in which Gorgon was heavily involved. What sort of evil mischief was brewing? It would be best to return to the Woodland stronghold as soon as possible.

  They had just about finished their preparations when Nelwyn heard sounds in the undergrowth, followed by a familiar call that she recognized at once. It was Gaelen, asking whether the area was secure so that they might approach. Nelwyn replied with a distinctive call of her own.

  She and Gaelen had developed a complex series of whistles and soft hoots that formed a sort of code. They and the other hunter- scouts often used such codes in the performance of their duties. Many an unwary traveler wondered at the strange sounds, which, though unfamiliar, seemed to fit perfectly into the ambiance of the forest. Enemies would find them the last sounds in hearing, just before the whistling of arrow-shafts ended their misbegotten lives. The Wood-elves had no mercy upon the servants of evil, and showed little tolerance for trespass into their domain.